For Sorrow Sung
by Shadowsong1
Summary: Nineteen days before Baltar's trial, Helo investigates the shooting of a teenage girl, as does Alan Hughes.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_Nineteen Days Before Gaius Baltar's Trial_

_Galactica_

Helo sat in his little cubicle on the edge of Dogsville, digging through the stack of written complaints handed to him that morning by the various residents. He pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten, slowly. He was known for being one of the more patient officers with the rank to be given this assignment (which, coupled with the grey-area legality of some of his recent actions, was probably _why_ it was his now), but some of these complaints were so frakking _stupid_...

Two gunshots interrupted him, echoing from somewhere just around the bend. He launched to his feet, pulled out his own sidearm, and fought his way through the confused mass of people, trying to get around that corner.

"Oh, my gods!" someone shrieked, apparently having beaten him there.

"Move aside!" he yelled. "Let me through!"

Finally, after an endless thirty seconds or so, he managed to work his way to the front of the crowd.

There was a girl lying in a spreading puddle of blood, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. No sign of the gun or the shooter. He ran over and knelt next to her, checking for a pulse.

He found one, faint and thready, but still going. He reached up and grabbed a marine's arm, one of seven who had responded to the shots the same way he had. "She's still alive. Go get Cottle, now."

"Yes, sir," the marine replied, and ran off.

"And you two, find the shooter. The rest of you, keep the crowd back." In the meantime, Helo tried to find the worst of the bleeding and get it slowed, even if he couldn't stop it. Once the girl was safely on her way to sickbay, he'd have to talk to everyone in the settlement, find out if anyone had seen anything, or knew who she was-she didn't live here; he was fairly certain he'd never seen her before.

From there, well...

First, do what he could to make sure the kid would survive.

The first marine was back, with Cottle, who took over from Helo in seeing to the girl. Helo nodded briefly to the doctor, then dragged over a crate and stood up on it. He made a bullhorn with his hands. "Everyone, _listen to me_!" The people here were, by now, at least moderately accustomed to him as an authority figure, so by the time Cottle and his helpers had gotten the girl onto a gurney and out of the hallway, they were more or less silent. "I'm going to need to talk to everyone who saw or heard anything, or _thinks_ they saw or heard anything, and everyone who has any kind of idea who the girl is."

He winced, as the predictable chaos following his announcement bubbled up again, everyone scrambling over each other to talk. "_Wait a minute_." After a while longer, quiet finally fell again. "If you have something to tell me, go talk to one of the marines. I can only hear one person at a time. They'll keep this organized, so everyone can tell me what they know." _And I can sort through the people who are misremembering, or over-emphasizing, or flat-out making things up, that much faster_.

A dull rumble of noise started up again, as people started heading back to their assigned spaces or talking to one of the marines. i_Sooner or later, I'll have to talk to everyone, just to be sure_./i But this was a start, at least.

* * *

><p><em>A Few Hours Later<em>

There were nineteen certified lawyers in the fleet. Seven of them were on the Quorum, and, of those left, Alan Hughes had been the fifth President Roslin had approached to defend Dr. Baltar. He'd made a brief show of thinking it over, but agreed without too much fuss-he'd always had a grim fascination for brutal, seemingly hopeless cases. He'd been a little surprised to hear that it had even taken the President three tries to find a prosecutor. Apparently, no one wanted to touch this case on either side.

Hughes handed Baltar a half-dozen sheets of paper. "Sorry there's not as much this time. There was an incident down in Dogsville earlier. Since I have to smuggle most of my paper through there..."

"What sort of incident?" the other man asked absently, after snatching the papers and starting in on them. He didn't even look up.

"Someone got shot."

Baltar paused for a half-second, though he still didn't look up, before resuming writing. Sounding more curious than anything else, he asked, "Did you hear a name?"

"Reyes, I think," he replied, after considering a moment.

The other man's face drained of color, and he stopped completely. "Is-will she be all right?"

Well, now, _that_ was interesting. While Baltar occasionally deigned to speak with him during these meetings, he never actually stopped writing to do so. "Last I heard, she was still alive. Why, do you know her?"

"Just...curious, that's all."

Hughes stared at him, then sighed. "We talked about this."

"What?"

"I can't help you if you lie to me."

Baltar at last looked up and stared at him for a long moment. "This has _nothing _to do with-" He cut himself off, staring a little bit beyond Hughes in that creepy way he did sometimes. "Stop it."

Hughes sighed and rubbed at his temples. "It might have something to do with it. I told you, every little bit helps."

Baltar was still staring at nothing-Hughes didn't even have to look to know that's what it was. He had, the first few times the other man had done it, but there was never anything there. Unfortunately, he didn't meet the legal definition of insanity, which would have made Hughes' job a hell of a lot easier. He sighed again, and waited for the other man to check back in to the discussion at hand.

He didn't have to wait long. Baltar made an irritated noise and turned away from the beyond-him place. "Any relationship I may or may not have with Atia Reyes has nothing to do with you, or the trial."

_So you _do _know her. Or at least you know her full name. But you're not going to tell me anything else about her, are you_. "Fine," Hughes said. He'd find out what he needed to know by asking other people, the way he always did when his client was unwilling to share specifics. It was faster, less confusing, and far less infuriating for both of them. He leaned back and closed his eyes, listening to Baltar's pen slowly start moving again, waiting for him to finish so he could take the papers and set about asking his questions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Eighteen Days Before Gaius Baltar's Trial_

_Galactica_

"What exactly happened?" Adama asked him.

"I'm not exactly sure yet, sir," Helo admitted. "I heard the shots and went to investigate, but had trouble getting through the crush of people. By the time I got there, the incident was over, and the shooter was gone. We're still looking for him, and I'm still sorting through everyone's stories."

He nodded. "Have you figured out who she is yet?"

"Yes, sir, there I did get lucky," he said. "Her name's Atia Reyes; she lives on the _Red Pelican_. She and some of her friends copy out books and trade them for things. She was delivering a couple to a woman down there. She'd finished the trade and was on her way out."

"What was she trading for?"

"Ink, according to the woman who bought her book. Sounie Mayze. She's never given me any trouble; I don't think she was lying."

The Admiral nodded again. "Have you talked to the people on the _Pelican_ yet?"

Helo shook his head. "I was going to head there from here."

Major Cottle, who'd been silent up until then, finally spoke. "I dug the bullets out of her. With a little luck, she'll live."

"You're sure about that?" Adama said, looking over at him.

"As sure as I can be. She had some scarring, too. Probably from about a year ago, give or take a few months, on her chest and back. It might be related."

Helo blinked. "What makes you say that?"

"Someone thought she was a traitor," he replied, flatly. "Carved and burned it into her."

"She's a _child_," Helo said, after a moment of stunned silence.

"People don't always care, Captain Agathon," Adama said quietly.

Helo bit his lower lip briefly, thinking what that could lead to. "Maybe something to do with her personal life. I think if she'd done anything on a larger scale, I'd've heard of her before now. Though I could be wrong." _And gods know people can get vicious about romantic betrayals. She's kind of young for that, but kids in the fleet grow up fast._

The Admiral nodded. "Find out."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

><p><em>Zephyr<em>

Alan traced a hand down Iliana Fortuna's bare stomach, with a faint smile. She smiled up at him in return, and nestled closer. "So, any gossip to report?"

"Nope," he replied, with a faint sigh. "Believe me, if I had any, I'd share."

"And my boss would be eternally grateful. Without, of course, ever knowing who my source is." They shared a conspiratorial smirk.

Iliana had gone to elementary and middle school with Alan's kid sister, before she and her family had moved to Saggitaron. Iliana and Dana had tried to stay in touch, but like any kids going to separate high schools after growing up together, found different circles of friends and fell out of contact. Alan had been more than a little surprised to find her here in the fleet, even on his ship, all grown up. He'd been building up a moderately impressive information network, dabbling a little in trade, both legal and extra-legal, while she'd gone into politics, becoming a secretary in Tom Zarak's office when he was elected to the Quorum to represent Saggitaron an age and a half ago. They'd started by trading information-if she found anything that would help him from her boss or his associates, she'd share, and vice-versa. One thing had led to another, and they'd spent a few drunken nights together during the Presidential campaign two years ago. Then a few sober nights on New Caprica. Then they'd started making this a habit.

"What about you?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow. "Anything to report from Colonial One?"

She shook her head, and pulled a face. "Nothing new, anyways. Repairs from the raptor crash are going well, but slowly, the typical political infighting, Bossman trying to talk the President out of holding a trial for the umpteenth time and Tory Foster on the verge of throwing something at him to get him to shut up...the usual. Nothing new being initiated. Kind of unspoken unofficial hold on non-essential business until your mess is cleared up."

He nodded. About what he'd expected, then. "I'd mention the shooting, but I'm sure you heard about that."

"Yeah." She wrinkled her nose. "At least as far as my boss knows, Captain Agathon is investigating, and is exactly nowhere with it."

He flopped back again. "Yeah, that's what I heard on my grapevine, too. Well, that and some implausible rumors about her being pregnant by some VIP or other who decided to handle the problem with bullets, since safe abortions are illegal."

She giggled. "I'd heard those, too. Someone asked me if it was my boss."

Alan got a mental image of that, and immediately wished he hadn't. She laughed harder at the look on his face.

"_Anyway_," he said, when she'd finally calmed down enough to listen. "If you do pick up anything, let me know?"

She blinked, but nodded. "Yeah, sure. Any reason why?"

"Timing. Trial starts in less than a month, after all."

She sat up. "You think there's a connection?"

_I _know _there's a connection_. He shrugged. "I'd rather cover all my bases, just in case. Like I said, the timing bothers me. There's no apparent motive or suspect, so it's _possible_ that either someone very twisted thinks this kind of sadistic distraction will help us, or she's connected some way."

"If she is, Captain Agathon will probably figure it out."

"I know, but I'd rather find out on my own."

She nodded. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know," she promised. "I might even be able to do you one better, depending on if my boss takes enough of an interest to try and get his hands on documents."

"You're an angel."

She smiled, but then stretched and stood all the way up. "Speaking of Bossman, he'll be missing me soon."

Alan nodded. "D'you know when you'll be able to get away again?"

She shook her head. "I'll contact you if I have anything to tell you about the shooting." She bent down and kissed him, lingering, then collected her clothes and slipped away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**  
><em>Seventeen Days Before Gaius Baltar's Trial<em>  
><em>Red Pelican<em>

Helo was met at the _Red Pelican_by a young woman, maybe in her early twenties. "Hi. Um. I'm Kelly Nerys," she said. "You're here about Atia?"

He nodded. "I'm Captain Karl Agathon. And yes. I just need to talk to her friends for a minute. How well do you know her?"

"Um. Well enough, I guess. She and her friends have been living on the Pelican since the beginning. They were on a school trip; their teacher had a heart attack about a year and a half ago. Um. I think she's been trying to figure out a way to make more paper?" Miss Nerys ran a shaky hand through her hair. "She's kind of quiet. Keeps to herself. Really smart, all ten of them are."

He nodded again. "Thanks. Where can I find her friends?"

"I'll show you," she replied. "Um. This way, Captain."

He followed her through the _Pelican_to where Atia and her friends stayed. The ship was a little bit smaller than iColonial One/i, having been a commercial liner out of Luminere before the attack, and had been hastily rearranged into living quarters.

Miss Nerys showed him a partitioned-off section that had been set up as a sort of schoolroom. There were ten improvised desks. Girls were sitting at nine of them, all about the same age as Miss Reyes; the last was tellingly empty.

The nine of them looked up when the curtain dividing them from the rest of the ship was pulled back. One of them, a petite girl with very dark hair, stood up and came over to talk to them.

"This is Captain...um..."

"Agathon," Helo supplied when Miss Nerys trailed off, uncertainly.

"Right. Agathon. Sorry. Um, he's investigating the...yeah."

The girl nodded. "I'm Rose Yates. Is Atia gonna be okay?" She had the flat, nasal accent common to people from Leonis, same as Miss Nerys did.

Helo decided to be honest with her. "She's still alive, and Dr. Cottle thinks she's probably going to be okay. As of when I left _Galactica_, she hadn't woken up yet."

Miss Yates took a deep breath, and nodded. "Right. Okay. Do you know _why_someone would...?" She broke off, clenching her fists a little.

He hesitated. "We're still looking into things. I wanted to talk to you and your friends, see if you knew anything that might...?"

She shook her head firmly. "We copy books, Captain. That's all. We don't do anything that would put us at risk of...of getting..." She took another deep breath. "Atia was copying a _romance novel_, for the gods' sake. It wasn't even a particularly-" She cut herself off, going a very brilliant red.

Helo coughed a little. "Does she have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend?"

Miss Yates thought a minute, then shook her head. "Not that I know of. She's kind of kept to herself since we left New Caprica. She doesn't even talk to us as much as she used to. Only time she leaves our area these days is when she's delivering books to people. We draw lots for that," she added, to explain.

He nodded. "Was she...do you know if she was detained?"

"She...disappeared, for a few weeks, right before you guys came back for us," Miss Yates replied, after a moment's hesitation. "She won't tell us where she was. After a while, we stopped asking, figuring she'd probably tell us when she was ready to. None of us want to force her."

"Of course, I understand completely." So she was. _Which means the scarring is almost definitely from a personal problem_. "Has she _ever_been involved with anyone, as far as you know?"

Miss Yates shook her head again. "No, sir. Lissa left us for a while when she moved in with her boyfriend, and a couple of the others have had special friends, but...even before New Caprica, Atia wasn't ever especially interested in that." Helo thought she sounded slightly frustrated, and filed it away in the back of his mind.

Another thought struck him. "Was she writing anything herself? A novel or anything she'd made up?"

"Not that I know of," Miss Yates said, slowly. "She was always more into numbers than stories and stuff. I think that's why she's been using her spare time trying to figure out a way to make paper from what we have here. It interests her more."

He nodded. "I'd like to go through her desk, anyway. Just in case."

"Yeah, sure," she replied. "Do you want to do that first, or talk to the others first?" She flushed a little. "A lot of what we copy out that isn't trashy romance novels is really bad detective novels, so I sort of guessed what you'd want to do when you got here..."

Helo smiled a little. "I'll talk to people first, then go through her desk."

Miss Yates nodded, still a little red. "Okay. If you want to ask me anything else, I'll be at that desk." She indicated the one she'd gotten up from, in case he'd forgotten, then gave him the others' names. He thanked her, then found a place to set himself up where he could talk to each of them privately.

* * *

><p><em>The Next Day<em>  
><em>Zephyr<em>

Iliana set a file down on Alan's bed. He blinked and looked up at her. "What's this?"

"Your lucky day," she said, then perched on the edge of the bed. "Major Cottle's report on the girl's injuries. Apparently, Bossman's just as suspicious about the timing as you are, so he asked to see it. Though he made up a different excuse, of course."

"Is this the original?" he asked, wary. _If I get caught with it-or if_ she _gets caught with it..._

She rolled her eyes. "I may not be a lawyer, Alan, but I'm not stupid. It's a copy."

He relaxed a little. "Okay, then." Carefully, he opened the file. Iliana moved around him to look over his shoulder.

"I haven't actually looked at it yet," she admitted. "I didn't want to risk being caught with it, so I hid the copy I made 'til I got here. And gods know I don't actually pay attention to what I'm copying down. I'd never be able to do things fast enough to suit Bossman if I stopped to think about what I was doing."

Alan nodded, and started skimming through the pages. Most of it wasn't very interesting-two bullets, what damage they'd done, the angle and other factors indicating the shooter was average height and about six feet away, shots entering from the front. The girl had most likely seen her attacker.

Finally, though, he found something useful. Descriptions of scarring on her chest, where someone had burned the word 'traitor,' and her back, where the same had been carved in. Iliana gasped faintly and clapped her hands to her mouth, giving him a horrified look. Alan himself closed his eyes.

"Who would...?"

_There_ is _a connection_, Alan thought dully, not answering his girlfriend right away. _And, unfortunately, at least one angry motherfrakker with a gun knows about it_. "I don't know," he finally answered.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" she asked.

That was the question, wasn't it. He chewed on his lower lip for a minute. "Not...yet," he finally said. "Not until I get a chance to confirm I have something to tell. Without exposing my illegal access to confidential medical files. If I could talk to her, too...but I can't. Not without giving the game away. And we all know that people in a position to do real harm...might." He closed his eyes, blotting out the mental image of Colonel Tigh.

Iliana nodded. "My guess is Bossman's connected the dots, or he will as soon as he actually looks at the file. If you want to handle leaking the connection yourself, you don't have much time."

"I know," Alan said. He shut the folder and sighed. "Believe me, I know. Do you have any idea what your boss might do once he's worked it out?"

She spread her hands and shrugged helplessly. "He can be hard to predict. He might make the announcement, or at least tell the President, as concrete proof that there shouldn't be a trial at all. Or he might sit on it. I don't know."

He nodded. "Right. Okay. Thank you for getting this to me."

"No problem," she said. "You've got a way to get rid of it, or should I take care of it?"

"I can handle it."

She nodded, squeezed his hand briefly, then left.

Alan pinched the bridge of his nose and focused on squelching the idea of using what was in the file to force his client to tell him the specifics of the connection. Too much chance of getting caught with it. Sharing the facts verbally would have to be enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**  
><em>Fourteen Days Before Gaius Baltar's Trial<em>  
><em>Galactica<em>

Helo hadn't been able to find out much from the other girls when he questioned them. They'd all said the same sort of thing as Miss Yates and Miss Nerys had-Miss Reyes was brilliant, reclusive, celibate, and hadn't been working on anything particularly controversial.

Going through Miss Reyes' desk, however, had been interesting, to say the least. As Miss Yates had indicated, Helo had found the romance novel she had been copying-it was called _Captive's Passion_, and from what he gleaned skimming it, had something to do with pirates. There were a few other half-completed projects on her desk. One was a cheap detective novel he vaguely remembered reading a couple years before, and one was the hundred fifteenth book in a well-known series written for preteen girls, but the third concerned him. It didn't have a corresponding printed book that was being copied from, so it was something of the girl's own creation. It was a letter, describing what looked to Helo like a child's birthday party; addressed to someone called the 'Tower Man.' It wasn't signed.

It was possible, of course, that Miss Yates had been wrong, and Miss Reyes had been attempting an epistolary spy novel or something. Or she might've been writing a coded letter to someone.

He'd also found the research Miss Yates, Miss Nerys and the others had indicated Miss Reyes was getting into. He hadn't been able to decipher much of it; she seemed to have taken one somewhat large sheet of paper and written in, crossed out, substituted, revised, and otherwise altered the formula several times. In addition, the handwriting was so small he could barely make it out.

The investigation had been stalled for a while. He still hadn't managed to find the gun, let alone the shooter, and the motive was still a mystery. There was Miss Yates' seemingly unrequited crush, which might explain the scarring. She couldn't've pulled the trigger herself, as she was shorter than Miss Reyes, and the shooter had been taller, but she was clearly the leader of the Book Girls. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that she'd arranged it. And if she felt herself romantically betrayed, that might be a possible explanation for the scars. Especially if these coded letters to the 'Tower Man' were to a secret lover.

On the other hand, the previous scarring might've been completely unrelated to the current shooting. He thought that was unlikely, given the low murder rate in the fleet-the chance that two people would hate this girl that much for two seperate reasons was vanishingly small. But, as the only possible explanation he had that took into account both attacks was problematic, he was trying to decipher the paper formula. Any type of new luxury, or a substitute for rare necessities, could well be reason enough to put a bullet in someone. Besides, none of what little he'd been able to learn about Miss Yates and her relationship with Miss Reyes indicated jealousy or frustration anywhere near the level that would explain carving up or trying to kill her friend. If he ignored the scarring as something unrelated, some sort of scientific espionage grown violent made a hell of a lot more sense.

Unless the formula wasn't worth stealing. New paper was, yes, but he had no way of telling whether or not Miss Reyes' design was anywhere approaching workable. Anyone looking to steal it would know one way or the other. Obviously, Helo needed to find that out before he could start looking into the formula as a possible motive.

As soon as he could, he tracked down Lieutenant Gaeta. "I was wondering if I could get you to look at something."

"Sure," he replied. "What's up?"

He handed Gaeta the folded paper. "Does this mean anything to you?"

Gaeta didn't answer right away. He moved over to the wall and completely unfolded the paper, spreading it out so he could see the whole thing and scanned it for a few minutes. "I'm not sure it would work, but it's not far off from it. Supposed to be a writing surface, right?"

Helo nodded. "I was told that it's supposed to be a formula for a paper substitute."

Gaeta nodded and studied the sheet again. "I don't know if it would do what it's supposed to, but it wouldn't take much more modification, and everything used in it is pretty readily available, even now...where'd you get this?"

"The girl who was shot a few days ago had it in her desk."

"I thought she was around sixteen?"

Helo blinked. "Just turned seventeen. Why?"

"This is way beyond what most kids her age could come up with," Gaeta informed him. "I'm not sure I would've thought of some of this-granted, chemistry wasn't ever my specialty or anything, but still."

"I see." He frowned a little. "The main thing I wanted to know was whether or not you thought this would be worth shooting her over."

To that, Gaeta nodded. "Definitely. Either she plagiarized someone else's work, or she really is this smart and someone wanted the formula and she wasn't sharing."

"Thanks," Helo said.

"No problem."

"Captain Agathon?"

Helo turned, to find a Marine waiting to talk to him. "Yes?"

"Major Cottle asked me to find you. He said to let you know that she's awake and you can talk to her now."

Without another word, Gaeta folded up the paper again and handed it back to Helo. "Good luck," he said.

"Thanks." Helo turned and followed the Marine towards sickbay.

* * *

><p>Hughes set his briefcase on the ground and sat down. "We need to talk."<p>

"What about?"

"The girl."

Baltar froze. "I told you, she has nothing to do with-"

He picked up the case, snapped it open, and pulled out the relevant page of Major Cottle's report on the girl's injuries. "Can you honestly look at that and tell me to my face that she's not connected to you in some way?"

The other man stared down at the paper, saying nothing.

"I've told you again and again and _again_, if you don't tell me the truth, _I can't help you_. Or her."

"Please leave her alone," he said quietly. "I don't want-" He cut himself off and stared at nothing again.

"Doctor. _Focus_," Hughes snapped. "Look at me."

It took Baltar a few minutes to tear his eyes away from whatever it was he saw when he stared off into space like that. "All right. All _right_, I'm focusing. You have my complete attention."

"Who is the girl?" Hughes asked him again.

"She's-" He broke off and looked down at the paper again, picking it up with one trembling hand. "I came for her...she hadn't thought I would, she told me she told ithem/i I wouldn't, but I...I couldn't..." He dropped the paper and closed his eyes.

"Just start with who she is, okay?"

Baltar put his head in his hands and finally gave an answer, talking into them so Hughes couldn't actually hear.

"Tell me, not your hands." _I sound like a frakking preschool teacher. Gods help us all._

"She's my daughter."

_This...shouldn't be surprising_. Hughes wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting, but for some reason, it hadn't been that. Now he heard it, though, it made perfect sense. Baltar wasn't exactly celibate, but the girl was barely seventeen, and the last time they could've met in person, would have been fairly obviously underage. Even he had standards.

"How long have you known?" Hughes asked after a short silence.

"Since New Caprica." Baltar stared down at the ground. "She was kidnapped. By the Resistance. They contacted me with a ransom demand."

"And you met it?"

"She's my daughter."

"Do you know who was involved?"

He shook his head. "I never saw any faces. And I don't know how many people in total know."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"To keep something like this from happening."

"I see." Hughes leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. I think secrecy is out of the question now. I'll talk to her; make sure she's comfortable with leaking it."

"What?" Baltar looked up. "No, you can't-"

"She was shot, here on _Galactica_," Hughes pointed out. "She's been literally branded a traitor, and it's now two weeks until the trial starts. If I managed to put the pieces together, how long do you think it'll be before the people whose _job_ it is to investigate this manage it?"

He didn't have an answer for that.

"It'll go better for everyone if the leak comes from us," he went on, decisively. "I won't do it before preparing her, I promise."

"She won't talk to you."

"Sorry?"

"She's more paranoid about this than I am," Baltar replied. "We've been writing letters, with codenames. Her idea, all of it. She's not going to talk to you sight unseen, even if you are my lawyer."

That could prove to be a problem. "What do you suggest, then?"

Baltar was silent for a brief minute, then dug out a piece of paper and wrote something on it, then folded it and handed it over. "Give this to her. It might get her to open up. But I can't promise anything."

Hughes slipped the note into his briefcase, along with the page of the medical report, and snapped it shut again. "All right."

As he left, he looked back to see his client standing near the bars, watching him go; his right hand was floating about a quarter-inch above his left shoulder. "Keep her safe."

Hughes nodded. "I will. I promise."


End file.
